The endless tumble in the pit of his stomach. Not knowing. Giving up everything with no return promised. But it arrives. Always. Regardless of interaction, whether gentle caress, stinging slap, or simply ignored. It always returns.

He melts and dissolves, static flows downstream, he gives it all away. Willingly. Wantonly. Wantingly. The nervous calm arrives. At her word he is nothing of himself and everything she commands.

He bows to it. Embraces it. Sinks in to the swirling emotions, chemicals billowing cloud-like through him. Breath shallow. Lips dry. Eyes flickering nervously. Covered. Dark. Isolated. Connected. He touches her soul once more as his explodes. Ka-fuckin-boom.

Darkness amplifies the noises, deafening and shrill in his ears. His brain a hurtling race car, charging through the gears, tyres leaving strict marks as he burns, trying to place the sounds, always in second place.

He guesses anyway. Wrong. Right. Game of chance. Take a card from the Top.